


Have No Fear

by TeatimeDuchess, TheLordOfLaMancha



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Dealing with fear, Domestic Fluff, Literary Marriage fic, M/M, RP Style, Re-Education, TeatimeDuchess, cecilos - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4182318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeatimeDuchess/pseuds/TeatimeDuchess, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordOfLaMancha/pseuds/TheLordOfLaMancha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night Vale is full of many terrifying and unusual things. But that doesn't mean her residents are fearless. For some it is spiders. For others it's a picture frame inexplicably moved two inches to the left. And for Telly the Barber in particular, it's the fear of ruining Carlos' perfect perfect hair when he cuts it.</p><p>However, there's nothing to fear when you've got someone to protect you. For Cecil and Carlos, fear comes in unexpected and unusual ways. But who would expect anything else? It's Night Vale.</p><p>Shameless domestic fluff about Cecil and Carlos and how they help each other through times when they are very, very afraid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little fic co-written with my lovely literary partner, TeatimeDuchess, to mark our Literary Marriage. <3
> 
> Carlos is TetimeDuchess. Cecil is myself, TheLordOfLaMancha.

Carlos walked out of the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth. His eyes caught his boyfriend pulling on a t-shirt to sleep in and he had the grace to blush before he turned away quickly, going to spit out the toothpaste and rinse out his mouth. He wiped his face down with a plush, white towel before walking back into the connecting bedroom, smiling at Cecil as he took off his glasses. He placed them on the nightstand right next to their bed.  
  
“Ready to sleep, handsome?”

* * *

Cecil stretched and yawned idly as he fell into his side of the bed, curling his lithe legs under him and lifting the soft, thick covers over top. He smiled widely up at Carlos at the compliment, his glasses gone from his face as well.

"I believe so," Cecil said. "I've done all the evening rituals and set the protective bloodstones. And how about you, my perfectly imperfect Carlos?"

He brought his knees up below the covers and leaned his elbows on them, his finger in his mouth as he licked the cut on his finger. He sleepily gazed into Carlos' eyes.

* * *

Carlos chuckled and slipped in to bed as well, the room only illuminated by the warmly glowing lamp on Cecil's side.

“I think I'm ready for some shut eye.”

He doubted he'd ever get used to the strangely fascinating rituals that his boyfriend performed on a daily basis. Leaning over, Carlos pulled Cecil's hand away from his mouth so that he could press a sweet kiss to the man's lips, his cheeks painted with a soft blush and his lips pulled into a stupid, crooked,  love-struck smile.

Carlos wiggled down into the bed. He brought the covers up over himself as he slipped his fingers in between the blond's, bringing both of their hands close to his chest.

* * *

Cecil's head tipped forward as he lay down on his side, until he could feel Carlos' hair gently brushing his forehead. His lips were still warm with the taste of Carlos'... lip chap and the faintest hint of formaldehyde. Cecil could never quite get over the feeling of oneness he felt when Carlos laced himself together with Cecil, Cecil's fingers tingling as he felt his tattoos race down his fingers and up onto Carlos' arms.

As the tattoos latched themselves with an ethereal link between the two, Cecil brimmed with life. He could feel Carlos' heartbeat racing with his own and his breathing stutter until it leveled out in time with the scientist's. Cecil concentrated in the center of his mind until one of his eye shaped tattoos transferred to Carlos and glowed faintly on the back of the scientist's hand.

"Goodnight, Carlos. Goodnight," Cecil sighed in a breathy baritone and fell into a trance-like slumber with the confidence that Carlos was safe and all was quiet in Night Vale.

* * *

Carlos stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours after his boyfriend's breathing had evened out, his hand still wrapped around that of a sleeping Cecil. He could feel the tickling sensation as the eye slithered up and down his arm from where Cecil's hand was intertwined with his own above the sheets. He smiled down, fond of his lover's tattoos and how they would move about and travel (albeit hesitantly) onto his own skin. Carlos watched it for a while before it finally settled on his the inside of his wrist.

His gaze returned to the ceiling once more, watching the shadows change as lights of passing cars came in through the window, scattering the darkness on the white stucco.

Night Vale was so strange, but he had learned to love the small, quirky town. It, of course, helped that he had Cecil and the familiarity of his lab and coworkers. His grip tightened and he affectionately ran his thumb over the smooth skin of Cecil's palm, a couple of tentacles winding about his fingers before returning to their original host.

Tilting his head to the side, he watched the face of his sleeping partner for a while, listening to the constant, calm breathing before sighing and cautiously unlinking their hands. Carlos sat up in bed, swinging his legs over the side as he ran a hand through his dark, unruly curls.  
  
He felt wide awake despite his earlier admittance of being ready to go to bed. Sleep seemed to be eluding him tonight.  
  
Maybe a warm glass of milk would help.

He stood, the sound of creaky bed springs making him look back to make sure he hadn't woken Cecil. But there he lay, still snoring away without a care in the world. Carlos smiled down, whispering “I'll be right back.” to the sleeping man before stepping softly out of the room and through the darkened hallways of Cecil's house.

The kitchen was far enough away from the bedroom that Carlos wasn't afraid to turn on the light. He flicked the switch.

With a slight frown, he flicked it down and up again.

The light still didn't come on.

With a soft groan, he made his way through the dark kitchen to the cupboards, silently promising himself that he would change the bulb in the morning. Even without the lights, he could still make out Cecil's tattoo shifting on his wrist as he grabbed a mug from beside the fridge. The eye blinked at him and he gently pet it with his free hand as he walked the two feet to the fridge.

It was nice to have the little eye there, watching over him; it was comforting now, though it had alarmed him the first couple of times that it had found itself on his skin.

Carlos opened the fridge door, allowing a sliver of light into the kitchen. As it swung open, it further illuminated a good portion of the room. He reached in to grab the carton of milk, shaking it around before opening it up. After his glass, there would be just enough for their usual morning coffees. He'd need to buy some more tomorrow.

He began to compile a small list in his head of little errands to do in the morning as the white liquid swirled, filling the Night Vale Community Radio mug. But a noise from behind him stalled his thoughts. It squeaked and made the most peculiar noise. Maybe it was a mouse, Carlos' mind offered. It was probably a mouse.

He set the carton of milk back on the fridge shelf and turned around to find that it was most certainly not a mouse.  
  
There stood a figure, in the middle of the kitchen. It was tall and hovering off of the ground, looming above him, terrifying. It had wings and was letting off the faintest of glows from its body despite the light of the fridge illuminating its features. Carlos stared at the humanoid being as terror began to well up in his chest. Its nine eyes were focused on the light bulb that it was currently changing, its too long fingers fiddling with the fixture.  
  
Carlos wanted to move, to run back to the bedroom, to scream out to Cecil or to demand what the being was. But he couldn't. The mug slipped from his shaking hands clattering to the floor and soaking his feet, and it was only then that the figure seemed to notice his presence and turned its attention to him. Carlos' breath caught in his throat, his heart beating too quickly as he felt his chest tighten in panic.  
  
It was just a dream. It was just a nightmare.

The being spread its wings a little, tilting its mouthless, noseless, featureless head to the side as it observed the scientist. It came closer to Carlos and tunnel vision set in, the inky blackness framing the creature's advancing form. He felt himself finally stumble back as it came close enough to almost  brush against his nose. The fridge rocked back and his entire body shook as he looked on with wide eyes.

For the briefest of moments, Carlos feared the worst.

* * *

Cecil was dreaming, his eyes racing behind his closed eyelids as he contemplated the illusionary forms of Carlos and Khoshekh, the soft swelling music of the weather playing softly in the back of his mind. Everything was well and he was sleeping soundly until his hand burned and a sharp pain raced up his arm.

He winced in his sleep, pulling his hand tight into his chest. It was cold. The pain rocked through him again, tugging deep at his chest and Cecil's eyes shot open with a choking gasp.

The first thing he noticed was that Carlos was not lying beside him, sound and safe. He sat up, looking around the room desperately.

The next thing he noticed was the back of his hand as the piercing pain shot through his arm again. The eye on the back of his hand was glowing a hostile, secret police blue.

Carlos. Carlos was not okay.

Cecil's head shot to the door as he heard the refrigerator creak and bottles suddenly rattle from the kitchen, and he noticed the bedroom door ajar.

Leaping from the bed, he grabbed the sling shot Tamika Flinn had given him from the drawer in the nightstand, clearing the space to the door in two strides and gripping the doorframe to spin himself around the corner. His tentacle tattoos flailed up his arms in panic, wriggling wildly.

He rushed through the dark of the living room in urgency and spotted the dark figure looming over the silhouette of Carlos. The light from the open refrigerator shined through the semi-translucent ethereal matter that composed the dark figure, and through it, Cecil could see the look of undeniable terror on Carlos' face, the eyes of the creature just inches from Carlos' perfect bedhead hair.

Arming his sling shot with a bloodstone he shouted, "GET AWAY FROM MY PERFECT PERFECT CARLOS YOU FOUL DEMONIC SPAWN OF A LIBRARIAN!"

Cecil was cut off as the featureless creature turned to face him, its eyes glowing as it took in the radio host.

"Erika?" Cecil asked, but didn't lower the slingshot. "What are you doing here? What are you doing to Carlos?"

The creature vaguely shrugged its wings and floated back to the middle of the room where it gestured upwards towards the light bulb in the ceiling, electricity arching dangerously from the socket where the bulb was half screwed to what must have been the creature's hand.

Carlos looked on with an expression like a glow cloud caught in headlights, but Cecil couldn't help himself.

He began chuckling lightly but dropped his slingshot and doubled over in deep uncontrollable laughter.

* * *

As much as he would deny it later, Carlos had been close to tears when Cecil barged into the kitchen. He had torn his eyes away from the terror before him to seek refuge in the handsome, brave face of the man who had run in with a sling shot. He opened his mouth to warn Cecil, to tell him to run away, to get help.

But...

Cecil knew this horrific creature?

As 'Erika' hovered back to gesture at the light, Carlos felt all the strength leave his body and his knees gave out from under him. He found himself sliding down onto the floor, gasping for air as he stared in awe at Cecil laughing hysterically.  
  
He was, to say the very least, at a loss for words.

* * *

Cecil's laughter was stifled as he caught the form of Carlos tumbling to the floor out of the corner of his eye. In his silence, he heard Carlos' gasping breaths and crossed effortlessly though the room, passing through Erika on his beeline jog to Carlos' side. Wisps of darkness curled like smoke over his blonde, tangled hair that glowed in the low light. He dropped to his knees in front of Carlos as Erika peered almost innocently over Cecil's shoulder, tapping its hand-like shapes together nervously.

"Carlos, Carlos," Cecil said, shaking Carlos' arm. "Are you alright?"

Cecil's hands were all over the scientist, searching every inch and crevice for signs of injury. Finding none but the subtle burn marks of an old, low level reeducation, Cecil settled on pulling his fingers gently through Carlos' wild black curls and cradling the scientist's head to his chest. Pressing kisses into Carlos' crown, Cecil held the scientist as though any moment he might disappear into dark curling smoke and be gone forever.

* * *

Carlos melted into Cecil's chest as he was pulled close, hiding his face both from embarrassment and to keep Erika further out of his sight. He could still feel the...the thing looming over them, and the cold air seeping from the fridge and onto his back sent a shiver down his spine. It was unpleasant, but Cecil was here now. So things weren't all that bad.

"My hero." Carlos let out what was supposed to be a laugh, but just came out as a shaky breath. His attempt at humor hadn't made him feel that much better and he clung on to Cecil's T-shirt harder.

"Is it...Is Erika gone?"

Carlos whispered as quietly as possible... He didn't want to seem rude but...

* * *

Cecil could feel Carlos' hands dig into his shirt and his breath caught a little from the sheer closeness. He sighed, but he still had a loving smile on his face, his one hand moving to gesture to the faceless old woman, who crossed the room and shut the fridge behind Carlos. The room enveloped into darkness except for the faint glow of Erika and the eye tattoos on the back of their hands.

Cecil looked back up over his shoulder as he rubbed the vague shapes of safety ruins into Carlos' back, and whispered something in modified Sumerian to Erika. The angel simply shrugged its wings in a non-committal gesture and finished screwing the bulb into the socket. Flicking on the kitchen light, Erika flickered in and out of the visible realm until they disappeared completely. The room was awash in the bright light of an environmentally friendly LED light bulb.

"Erika's gone now," Cecil said comfortingly, gently detaching himself from Carlos' clinging grip.

* * *

The light came on, and Carlos felt himself physically relax.  He hadn't realized just how tense his shoulders and arms had been up until that point, and he ached with the remnants of fear still flowing through his body. Carlos let out a huge sigh and allowed himself to place a kiss to Cecil's neck in thanks, his eyes fluttering closed as he pressed close for the combined warmth and comfort his partner offered.

He was exhausted, and now that the adrenaline high of his fight or flight instincts were fading, all he wanted to do was sleep. In a way, he couldn't help but laugh at the fact that his little trip to the kitchen had indeed worked to alleviate his temporary insomnia.

* * *

Cecil's eyes lit up in surprise as Carlos placed the kiss on his neck, catching Carlos' weight on his shoulder as the scientist relaxed.

Laughing softly, the sound resonating through his chest, Cecil muttered into Carlos' ear.

"Hey gorgeous," Cecil said softly. "It was just an angel. Nothing more than an ordinary, friendly, old woman assisting angel. They're all named Erika."

* * *

An angel...Carlos wasn't quite sure that he knew what to think about that. His tired mind supplied that this was something specifically Night Vale-y that would have to be looked into in the morning when he had actually gotten some decent sleep. There would be a scientific explanation for the creature waiting for him in his lab.

His still too quick heartbeats begged to differ.  
  
“It was terrifying.” His words were muffled by the fabric of Cecil's t-shirt. Carlos took in a deep breath, inhaling notes of campfire and incense and earth.  
  
After what seemed like a millennium, the logical part of his mind kicked in once more through the sleepy daze, telling him that he needed to get up and go to the bedroom. Slowly, Carlos untangled himself from Cecil and forced himself to stand. There were still milk splatters and ceramic shards on the kitchen floor.  
  
Another thing to add to the 'To Do' list in the morning. He took Cecil's hand and pulled him up and to the bedroom before the man could try and clean it up.

He hoped to get a goodnight sleep out of this experience at the very least.

* * *

"But Carlos, the mess..." Cecil trailed off, but Carlos' fingers were locked with his. Cecil turned to see the Faceless Old Woman wave at him dismissively as she made to tidy up the ceramic shards on the floor. He would have to remember to leave out some of her favourite dish tomorrow before he went to the station.

Rather than walk around the bed, Cecil crawled overtop of Carlos as the scientist climbed back under the covers. Slipping underneath as well, Cecil wrapped his hands around Carlos' waist, pulling him close, and nuzzled his nose into the back of his neck, relishing in the scents of spices and science.

"My silly, silly, perfectly imperfect scientist," Cecil muttered sleepily. "I thought you said a scientist is always fine."

* * *

“A scientist is always fine. And once I get to my lab tomorrow-” He yawned and shivered as Cecil's nose pressed to his skin. “I will be right as rain.” Carlos curled his hands around Cecil's as he allowed himself to be enveloped by the other man.

For now, sleep made his eyes heavy. Any fear that he still felt was soothed away by the protective embrace and smooth, baritone voice of his boyfriend.

* * *

"What's rain?" Cecil asked dreamily as he too fell to sleep by the comfort of his scientist.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil's turn. ;)

Carlos had gotten up earlier than usual so that he could clean the kitchen. Which had already been cleaned. He shivered at the thought of Erika having come back to tidy up the spilled milk and shards of mug on the floor. A soothing cup of hot coffee helped calm his nerves and he poured another for himself and one for Cecil, leaving it by the bed before he left for the day.

He sat at his desk, pondering. The fluorescent green tube that he was staring at gave him no answers; the bubbles simply floated upward in the viscous liquid. Angels... He tapped his pen against his chin in time with the soft rhythm of the tune on the radio. Angels.

* * *

Cecil awoke late the next morning, limbs tangled in the bed sheets and a bit cold from the lack of Carlos. But a lukewarm cup of coffee was sitting on the nightstand, in need of warming in the microwave, but the intention still charmed him and made the radio host sigh into a lazy sleepy smile. He plucked his glasses from next to the cup and crawled out of bed to begin his morning.

The walk to work was largely uneventful, the sky the expected violet shade and the air carrying the scent of peppermint. He whistled his way into the studio, carving the proper runes into the door to unlock it. He passed the intern sitting at the desk in the lobby on the way to the studio, picking up his Night Vale Public Radio mug from the counter and waggling the cup in the intern's direction.

"Good morning Intern Oliver," Cecil said passively. "Be a dear?"

Intern Oliver grimaced as Cecil continued to the studio, taking the long route to avoid Station Management.

* * *

Spinning in his swively chair, Carlos placed his pen in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he looked up mythos and legend on angels and the different attributes associated with them. He was so thoroughly absorbed in his research that the alarm blaring from his phone at half past 2 almost made him fall out of his chair, the pen clattering to the floor as it fell from his mouth.

Carlos quickly shut it off, picking up his pen and righting himself, sheepishly looking around to see if his coworkers had noticed anything. They had. All of them just gave him knowing looks and small grins as he reached over to turn the tuning dial on the radio with that telling blush on his face.

* * *

"The dark, shadowy figures are lingering in your dreams. They are trying to wake you up. Wake up. You're in a coma. Welcome to Night Vale," Cecil began the broadcast.

Intern Oliver slipped quietly into the station booth and dropped the cup of coffee loudly on the desk, but failed to faze Cecil, eyes glowing purple and absorbed in the broadcast. Intern Oliver tisked his tongue.

"I've booked you a guest to interview in 45 minutes," Intern Oliver muttered as the theme song played. Cecil said nothing.

Rolling his eyes, Intern Oliver dropped the details on the desk dismissively and went about preparing the ritual to feed Khoshekh.

* * *

Carlos sighed and relaxed in his chair, sipping at the mug of hot caffeine, listening to that voice flow through his very soul. He was completely smitten. Whirling in his chair a couple of times, he allowed himself the luxury of listening to Cecil's broadcast as he continued with his research, only stopping once he heard ' _And now, the weather-'._

With a smile full of anticipation, Carlos grabbed his phone off of the table and got up, walking swiftly from the room as he mentioned taking a break. Again, those knowing smiles followed him out as the lab door closed behind him.

This was his favourite time of day. Well, besides actually spending time with Cecil's physical form.

* * *

The broadcast was largely uneventful, with only one angry call from Steve Carlsburg and only two vengeful squirttling threats of re-education from Station Management. Cecil's eyes faded back to normal as he cut to the weather, picking up his cell phone from the desk.

He played idly with the swipe functions before calling Carlos and raising the phone to his ear. He authenticated his identity to the Night Vale Telecommunication Authority and listened to the gentle humming of machines while he waited for Carlos to connect.

* * *

Carlos sat on the bench outside, holding his cellphone in his hands as he waited one, two, three seconds. The phone rang. He picked up instantly.

“Hello?” he spoke into his phone, willing his voice to remain calm and professional (as if he didn't know who was calling him), despite the wide smile spread across his face.

* * *

"Hmmm..." Cecil muttered, relishing in the delightful sound of Carlos' voice, his own rumbling low across the airwaves. "Hello, my scientist. Tell me, how was science today? I'm very into science these days, you know."

* * *

“Science is great today! And yes, I know you are.” Carlos chuckled and folded his leg over his other, leaning back against the bench planks with his arm slung over the back of it. “I've been doing some reading this morning, after last night's...incident. Research tells me that angels are religious figures that appear to aid mankind when God sees fit to send a message. They're messengers Cecil! But, I cannot figure out how there are angels in Night Vale. It shouldn't be physically possible. They usually stick to people's dreams because can you imagine the kind of energy that one would need to exert to be able to cross onto the physical plane from the metaphysical? But they have...they have bodies! And it was exerting so much power that its body was glowing and it can hover!! And by what you said last night, you've seen quite a few. And why of all things would it change light bulbs? I mean, there is significance in bringing light to the darkness of mankind. So I kind of get it. But...it seems too simple. I'll have to keep reading up on angels. Cecil, they're fascinating!”

* * *

"You kind of lost me at metaphysical, my dear Carlos," Cecil said patiently. He spun his chair slightly in his sheer happiness of just hearing Carlos' voice on the other end. His pen rattled nervously as he drummed it on the desk with his anticipation.

"But have you considered that they perhaps draw some of this power you speak of from the light bulbs?" Cecil asked. "Night Vale Electric does mine our electricity from the rolling tumble weeds in the Sand Wastes that roll particularly close to the Bloodstone Factory."

Moving to flip through some bloodstained, yellowed papers on his desk, he selected one and drew it in front of him.

"I can give you the details of the company if you would like?" Cecil asked. "They were recently acquired by StrexCorp."

* * *

“Yes, that would be wonderful! I can send John and Carey over later to take a look at the tumble weeds and bring back samples. And maybe they can talk to a few of the electrical company employees.” The excitement in his voice rose and he stood from the bench, rushing inside to his desk. Carlos bit the cap off of his pen and scrambled to find a piece of paper that didn't already have notes on it.

“Okay, details if you would.”

* * *

Cecil read the details off the paper in a chanting, trance-like voice, the words lifting slightly off the paper as he read them aloud before settling back down.

Meanwhile, Intern Oliver was escorting the interviewee for the later half of the broadcast to the studio.

"So just remember, Maddy," Intern Oliver explained. "It's just a simple interview. Just answer as best as you can. Cecil will do the rest."

Cecil had finished reading the information to Carlos, and putting down the paper, spun around in his chair.

To immediately encounter the dark, ominous, and largely illegal figure floating in the doorway.

* * *

“Thanks handsome!” Carlos finished scrawling down the address and recapped his pen. “Also, we're out of milk, so I'll have to pass by the grocery store after work. Is there anything else you wanted me to get? We should still have some leftovers from last night in the fridge.” Carlos paused to wait for a response. None came.

“Cecil?”

* * *

Cecil screamed, and caught himself, his breathing laboured. He scrambled under his desk, dropping his phone to the floor in the process. Cecil was clutching at his head with his fingernails digging into his scalp as he rocked back and forth.

"No, no no no no!" Cecil screamed, tears streaming down his face. His mind was wracked with memory after memory of re-education that followed the discussion of Hooded Figures.

He recalled distinctly the memory of claw like talons gripping him around the torso and holding him back as he fought their grip. Across from him he watched helplessly as the hooded figures tore his beloved, perfectly imperfect Carlos limb from limb.

The memory replayed in Cecil's mind over and over as the Figure floated further into the room.

* * *

Carlos pulled the phone away from his ear to see if the call had disconnected due to a malfunctioning blood stone circle. But nothing was wrong. Until he heard that chilling scream from the other end of the line.

“Cecil?! Cecil!!”  
  
There was no direct answer to him calling his boyfriend's name and he began to panic, rising from his seat again as he frantically looked around for his keys. His desk was a mess by the end of the search and he ran out the door with the phone pressed to his ear, the far away cries of 'no, no, no, no, no-'  ringing in his head.

It was hard to focus and drive while his heart clenched terribly and he couldn't reach Cecil. He dared not hang up in case something happened, and though it was only a short drive to the radio station from his lab, he felt ancient by the time he pulled into the parking lot and ran to the front doors.

He only hoped that management hadn't decided that they didn't like the weather that day. It took Carlos a few times to remember the correct runes to open the front doors to the studios.

“Cecil??” Carlos' voice echoed through the empty halls of the radio station. It was always so dark in here and he didn't particularly enjoy visiting the station, the flickering lights crackling halfway down the hall. He only paused for a moment before he ran down the corridor, pushing through his hesitation so that he could find Cecil and figure out what was going on.

* * *

Intern Oliver heard the commotion of Carlos rushing down the hallway, and waved an arm out to direct the scientist away from Station Management, which was a writhing bunch of tentacles banging mercilessly on their office door. He rushed out into the hallway to meet Carlos halfway.

"I just brought in the interviewee for this afternoon!" Intern Oliver objected. "I even told him this morning, left the memo on his desk. I don't know what happened!"

The sounds of Cecil sobbing could be heard echoing from the dimly lit studio.

* * *

In all his haste, Carlos almost barreled right into the intern. He held himself up by placing his hands on Oliver's shoulders and softly apologized as he frantically looked between doors. He listened, though with only half his attention. The other half was listening to those sobs trailing through the radio station.

“Who...who is the interviewee?”

* * *

 

Intern Oliver noticed Carlos' insistent gaze and began walking back towards the studio.

"Maddy," Intern Oliver said. "A Hooded Figure."

The hooded figure was clear from the doorway at this point, floating in the corner looking slightly bored with the whole ordeal. Although upon closer inspection, there was a bout of nervousness about it.

Cecil was nowhere to be seen, but from somewhere in the room he had started screaming.

* * *

 

'Hooded figure' rang through his mind and Carlos panicked instantly. “Could you...escort the interviewee out. Please.” The scream coming from the studio made Carlos' heart stop “Now.” He ran forward, flipping his phone shut and shoving it into his pocket, giving only a moment's glance to the dark robed creature before looking around.

He found Cecil curled up underneath the desk and in seconds he was on his knees bringing the man close. Looking behind him, he urged the intern with his eyes to quickly remove the interviewee by any means necessary.

“Cecil. Cecil, look at me.”

* * *

"Could you... Follow me, Maddy," Intern Oliver muttered in the background. "Sorry about this."

Cecil shook his head and whispered "No, Carlos, no," his voice broken with tears. But he could feel the warmth envelop around him. Familiar hands and soothing gestures lured Cecil out of his panic.

"Carlos?" Cecil asked tentatively. He peeked open an eye and caught site of Carlos in front of him. His hands reached out to hold Carlos' arms with a desperate grip.

"Carlos, I'm sorry... I couldn't..." Cecil trained off, burying his face into Carlos's chest and shifting his arms to loop around the scientist's neck to hug him tight.

* * *

Cecil had only told Carlos briefly of his reeducation sessions. He had mentioned hooded figures. He had mentioned Carlos being injured, maimed, a series of gruesome happenings that he hadn't gone into detail about. Carlos knew that Cecil would rather not discuss his reeducation, but at least (he thought) he knew why the man was freaking out.

“Hey. Hey, I'm here. I'm whole and I'm here and I'm alive and you're alive. That's what matters. Your intern made a mistake. Don't worry. The hooded figure was here for an interview. Not to hurt you or me or anyone else.” He kissed Cecil's forehead, brushing back his hair in a soothing motion while his other hand rubbed circles into the man's back. He hoped that he had formed a proper hypothesis with the limited information that he had.

* * *

Cecil leaned into the comforts and soon came back to himself, enveloped in the comforting scents of spice and formaldehyde.

Soon his eyes widened, and shone a vibrant purple as the on air sign above the recording booth lit up.  
  
"The broadcast!" Cecil cried, crawling out from under the desk and dragging Carlos out with him. He muttered what Carlos assumed must have been choice words in Sumerian.  
  
"Sorry listeners," Cecil said in his normal soothing baritone. "There was... an incident. Involving... hooded figures. But it's much better now thanks to my perfectly imperfect Carlos."

Cecil turned and smiled brilliantly in Carlos' direction.  
  
"Isn't that right Carlos?" Cecil said nothing short of dreamily, leaning his face heavily on his right hand with his elbow perched on the desk. His other hand was held tight in Carlos'.  
  
"The hooded figure was here for an interview for you all, and I did not give it the Night Vale welcome it deserves. And," Cecil said, choosing his words carefully. He squeezed Carlos hand. "If a certain scientist wouldn't mind staying with me for the remainder of the broadcast, perhaps we can give a voice to these mysterious figures who plague, I mean haunt, I mean _reside_ in our local dog park."

* * *

Cecil was curled up on the couch in his- _their-_ house, surrounded by the comforter of his bed and smelling the rich scent of something warm cooking in the kitchen. After an exhausting and trying day, is fingers idly rubbed at the red marks on his wrists from reeducation and moved to massage the slightly thudding part of his brain near his temples.

It was all a little old hat at this point, and he really should be over the injuries, simply for their regularity. But Cecil would never object to the warm, if unusual, comforts of Carlos.

* * *

"Fresh science! Right out of the oven!" Carlos carried in a big plate, piled high with the cinnamon cookies that his abuela had taught him to make. He placed them right in front of Cecil before allowing himself to flop down on the couch right next to him and stealing part of the comforter.

He knew that Cecil couldn't resist eating the cookies, especially when they were so close. Carlos took a couple for himself, moaning softly and savouring the taste. He hadn't made these in months. But they were Cecil's favourite, and after such an... interesting day, Carlos had just wanted to spoil his boyfriend rotten.

"How are you feeling?" He pressed a cookie to Cecil's lips, smiling with the knowledge that his boyfriend wouldn't be able to resist.

* * *

Cecil smiled warmly to himself as he heard Carlos coming into the living room. His eyes widened as he saw the plate of cookies placed in front of him, and turned to Carlos as his boyfriend climbed next to him under the comforter.

Cecil returned his gaze to the cookies. He knew what these were. They were some kind of food that Carlos used to make before he came to Night Vale. And oh, they were so good. There were few things that Cecil would admit that he loved more than Carlos, and these cookies might be one of them. Cecil glared at the cookies as Carlos made obscene noises around the few he had taken for himself. Cecil corrected himself. Carlos came before the cookies.

Suddenly a cookie was being pressed against his lips, and he crosses his eyes to look down at it. The smell of warm baked goods drifted to his nose and Cecil thought that these cookies were so good they were probably illegal. He rubbed absentmindedly at his wrists.

Best to hide the evidence, he thought, and bit into the cookie. He took what remained of the baked good from Carlos’ hand and melted into his boyfriend’s side as the flavours erupted in his mouth.

“Mmmmmm,” he moaned, licking the crumbs from his lips. “M’ head still hurts.”

* * *

Carlos pressed a soft kiss to Cecil's temple, drawing the other man closer with an arm wrapped around his waist.

"Well, why don't I do all of the rituals tonight then? I'm pretty sure I remember how to do them all. I took notes last time."

He leaned his cheek against Cecil's head and closed his eyes, allowing a certain calm to wash over him. The day was over, but it was safe to say that there was never a dull moment in Night Vale. He just hoped that tonight would sustain its boring state.

* * *

Cecil shook his head as gently as he could with Carlos leaning against it.

“After last night, it’s probably best I do them,” Cecil explained, looking down at Carlos’ hand on his waist and idly playing with his boyfriend’s fingers. “Or I suppose we could do them together. We haven’t done that in a while.”

Cecil was quiet for a minute before he mumbled, “Thank you, by the way. For what you did today.”

He stilled his hands and craned his neck back to look up at Carlos.

* * *

"Ya, I don't want another angel encounter. Not yet at least. Though it might be interesting to get Erika into the lab for a day or two. Just for observational purposes." Carlos sighed and trilled his fingers against Cecil's skin. "We should do them together tonight. It has been a long while."

Carlos yawned and pulled the comforter tighter around himself.

"And thank you, for bringing me back to my senses last night."

With another soft smile, Carlos pressed a kiss to Cecil's lips, content with the warm happiness that flowed through his chest. As long as Cecil was around, he didn't need anything else in the world.

* * *

The world stilled for a moment as Carlos kissed him, and he hummed appreciatively before pulling away. Carlos was warm, but it was time for bed and there were rituals to do.

Sitting up with a sigh, Cecil snagged a cookie from the plate. He munched for a minute before standing from the couch.

“Come, my love,” Cecil said suavely, waggling his fingers behind him in Carlos’ direction. He fetched the bloodstones from the bookshelf, and selected a ritual book so Carlos could follow along. “It’s time for bed.”


End file.
